


A Means to an End

by xylodemon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Godswood Sex, Outdoor Sex, Translation Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:38:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylodemon/pseuds/xylodemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It had been years since Ned Stark had seen her beauty, but he saw it now.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Means to an End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magisterequitum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterequitum/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Цель и средства](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10369791) by [Cara2003](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cara2003/pseuds/Cara2003)



> Written for the [GoT Kink Meme](http://mockyrfears.livejournal.com/2421.html), with the prompt _Ned/Cersei, cunnilingus_. This is an AU-ish snippet in which Ned and Cersei's conversation in the godswood takes a very different turn.

"Be kind to me, Ned," Cersei whispered, her hand warm on his face, her fingers gentle as they brushed through his hair. "I swear to you, you shall never regret it."

Ned caught her by the wrist, pressed his thumb to the soft flutter just under her skin. "Did you make the same offer to Jon Arryn?" 

"I wouldn't have dared," she said, leaning closer, her hair spilling forward to frame her face, and Ned remembered her as she had looked at her wedding feast, pale skin and flushed cheeks, her green eyes wide and bright as Robert wrapped a Baratheon cloak around her shoulders. Robert had misliked her even then, had worn Lyanna's ghost like a shroud. "Jon Arryn had the rare distinction of having more honor than you."

"Likely he did," Ned admitted quietly. Lies could tarnish a man's honor as deeply as ignoble deeds, and Ned had been telling the same handful of mistruths for years – to Robert, to Catelyn, to Jon, to everyone. "My honor is not at issue."

"My children are no threat to you." Her hand twisted in his grasp, sliding carefully over his jaw, her thumb brushing over his mouth. "Robert never needs to know."

Ned considered her for a moment, watched as the failing sunlight and reddening sky burnished her hair from gold to copper. This godswood was peaceful, silent in a way the rest of King's Landing was not, but it was very different than the godswood at Winterfell, airy and bright instead of muted and cold. He did not belong here, where the sky was clear and the grass went untouched by snow and the heart tree had no face.

He shifted toward her, pain flaring in his leg at the sudden movement, and curved his hand over her knee.

"Here?" Cersei asked, her voice as soft as the oak leaves dancing in the wind. She frowned slightly, but her legs fell open as his hand slid up her thigh. "Why?" 

"So the Gods can see."

Her breath caught as he mouthed at her neck and jaw, and she smiled against his lips when he thumbed her nipple through her dress. It was strange -- Ned hadn't kissed any woman but Catelyn in sixteen years, and Cersei's mouth was smaller, her tongue quicker and tart with the weak Dornish wine preferred in the South, and Ned shouldn't be here, should never have let Robert drag him away from his holdfast and his children and his wife. Cersei tugged on his hair, nipping his lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood, and Ned eased her back onto the grass, pushed her dress up over her knees.

"Perhaps I was wrong about you," she said, her voice languid and slow, leaning up on her elbows to watch him with narrowed eyes.

 _A diversion_ , he thought bitterly, his mouth against her skin, his bad leg forcing him into a strained, awkward sprawl. _A means to an end_. She wore no stocking or smallclothes, and the hair between her legs was a shade darker than the hair on her head, hinting at red, and she was already wet, warm and slick around his fingers, arching up and gasping as he pushed two inside her. _I'll need more men_. If it came to arrests, his household guard was spread far too thin for things to end in his favor. _I must convince her to leave_. Robert could marry again – Martell had an unmarried daughter the right age, and there was that Highgarden girl Renly once mentioned – either one could give Robert two or three trueborn sons, if Robert did not drink himself into an early grave or get himself killed in a duel with Jaime Lannister. 

Cersei made a soft, urgent noise, hidden in the back of her throat, and Ned leaned in closer, replaced his fingers with his tongue. She tasted different than Catelyn, brighter, sweeter in a way that almost whispered of summer, and she tensed and twisted instead of sighing into it, pushing herself against his mouth and knotting her fingers in his hair. He licked into her, slow thrusts of his tongue and a dull ache spreading through his jaw, then slid his fingers back into her, dragging his mouth up and pressing a wet kiss to her clit, curling his tongue over it again and again and again, until her legs were shaking and her voice was hoarse and her thighs were slick with sweat. 

She was moaning now, loud enough that Ned worried someone might hear it, and he was hard, even though he shouldn't be, even though didn't want to be, and he hated himself for it, but he missed Catelyn with an terrible ache he could feel deep in his bones, and Cersei was beautiful like this, her eyes closed and her skin flushed, her back arched and her golden hair a wild wreck on the soft, godswood grass. He brushed his thumb over her clit, twisting his fingers as he kissed the inside of her thigh, his teeth just grazing her skin, and she fell apart with a long, graceful shudder, her fingers still twisted in his hair. 

He wanted inside her, wanted to pull her onto his lap and thrust up into her. He wanted to close his eyes and pretend this never happened, wanted to get as far away from her as he could.

"Ned."

He sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand; he could still taste her on his tongue, could still smell her everywhere. "Your Grace."

"Jaime told me what happened, the day King's Landing fell," she said quietly, resting her hand on his knee. She slid it up his leg, almost tentative, pausing at the front of his breeches. "You could've taken the realm for yourself. Such a sad mistake."

"I've made more mistakes than you can possibly imagine," Ned said, closing his eyes as she untied his laces, "but that was not one of them."


End file.
